


Stay

by redbrickrose



Series: SPN: season 15 codas [8]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fix-It, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Love Confessions, M/M, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-12
Updated: 2020-11-12
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27518629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redbrickrose/pseuds/redbrickrose
Summary: Castiel is changed too, now even more fundamentally. Michael had looked at him and said, “You can come with us or you can stay, but if you stay, then youstay.”Dean had looked at him and said, with a hitch to his breath, “Cas,pleasestay with us. Withme.”It hadn’t been any kind of a choice at all.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Series: SPN: season 15 codas [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1606942
Comments: 25
Kudos: 294





	Stay

**Author's Note:**

> There are any number of ways this could go that would be satisfying, but I WANT Human Cas so badly. So this is that. I knew I had a happier coda in me too. I have gone from the straight up heavy angst to just sappy, tearful love confessions, which I would feel are a little overblown except after last week's episode all bets are off, aren't they?
> 
> Tomorrow is Thursday AGAIN, and I am really Going Through It over here. I haven't slept or eaten right in a week. But we're all in this together, right?

It’s quiet, in the aftermath. 

The silence of the bunker in the early morning hours is a silence Castiel knows well. He has spent so much time here, like this, with only the hum of the generator for company while his family sleeps.

It’s not so different, except that everything is different. He was over and he was done, and he was at peace, and now. Well, now here he is, alive and breathing with the rhythm of his own heart heavy in stillness.

His heart beat before. He breathed before. But it was different. There was a redundancy to those human responses of his vessel (of his body - it was his even then) when his grace threaded through him, when there was still part of him that felt separate from blood and bone and breath.

He’s so tired. Humanity is exhausting. He’d forgotten that, or repressed it. But now his eyes ache and his hands shake and the whiskey burns his throat going down. He thinks he understands now, the numbness Dean chases at the bottom of the bottle. That burn can calm his racing thoughts and slow the zinging of his nerves. It tempers, a little bit, the way he swears he can feel the blood flowing in his veins.

He is not unhappy. That would undo so much. He is not unhappy to be back. He is not unhappy about the joy on Jack’s face or the relief in Sam’s, or about the way Dean folded him into his arms and buried his face against Castiel’s neck, exhaling wetly against his skin and clinging on. He is not unhappy, but he is lost, slammed back into existence and physicality (blood and bone and breath) and he also doesn’t know what happens now.

He should be asleep too; this fragile, human body needs it. But that’s the thing about returning from oblivion. Sleep doesn’t hold much appeal.

He wasn’t there long. Time moves differently in the Empty or, more aptly, there is no time. The Empty is an absence, after all, of time and space and being. He remembers only darkness, snatches of nightmares, a feeling of regret and pain, with nothing tangible to hang it on. It could have been five minutes. It could have been a decade. It could have been centuries.

It was two weeks. That’s all. Two weeks and he’s here and it’s over. The parts he remembers, the parts that are clear, that he was _awake_ to remember, happened quickly. Billie at the door. The realization that deal was the only way out. That _look_ in Dean’s eyes, and then, nothing, nothing, nothing until the infiltration of the Empty and this, choosing Dean again, because he always will. 

It was clever of his family, really. He’s proud of them, all of them - his human family and even his obnoxious brother, because Michael came through. It was a good plan - wake up all of the angels, break them out, repopulate Heaven, and then lock it down, leave Earth to the humans, finally. At last.

It is a happy ending. Chuck is not dead but neutralized through his connection with Amara and her newfound love of creation (it was Jack who got through to her, who helped her take control and reset the clock, bring them all back. It was Jack who saved it all, like Castiel always knew he would).

The Empty sleeps. There is no devil now, there is only Hell’s benevolent Queen. There is no God now, there is only Michael, against all odds softened by the Pit and transmuted through loving just one human man. 

Castiel understands. 

Castiel is changed too, now even more fundamentally. Michael had looked at him and said, “You can come with us or you can stay, but if you stay, then you _stay_.”

Dean had looked at him and said, with a hitch to his breath, “Cas, _please_ stay with us. With _me_.”

It hadn’t been any kind of a choice at all.

He hasn’t had a moment alone with Dean yet. Sam and Michael were there in the Empty, and then once they were back, really back, Jack was there too, and Eileen, and Bobby, Charlie, Donna, Jody, Claire. The whole of his human family, relieved and alive and wrapped around him. 

He is happy, of course. But Dean keeps shooting him these glances, heavy with guilt and sadness, despite the way he stuck by Castiel’s side, kept his hands on Castiel’s shoulder, his back, his elbow, like if they stopped touching for an instant, Castiel would disappear. Castiel understands that uncertainty, after everything; he knows that Dean needed that reassurance of his family together and whole. It still made him feel exposed, Dean’s hands on him like pressure on a raw nerve, Dean’s eyes stripping him bare.

It was a lot, for a first human day.

Castiel was the one who had left the others when he couldn’t take it, pleading exhaustion, and he had felt Dean’s eyes follow him out of the room.

Now he’s drinking in the library at 3 am. Solid start at this humanity thing.

He takes another swig from his glass and watches the light from the lamp flicker in the frosted tumbler. So he is not unhappy and he is human and he is free - of Heaven and the Empty. All of that is true. He is also lost and wary of the future. Humanity was a mixed bag the first time around.

He _feels_ Dean’s presence behind him before he sees him. It’s strange, he always thought that ability was an artifact of his angelic senses. Of course, Dean is there now. Castiel isn’t ready yet.

“Hey,” Dean says, voice rough as he comes into the room. He claps one hand on Castiel’s shoulder, initially strong and sure, but then lets it trail down his arm, as if reluctant to break the contact.

Castiel gives him a weak smile. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean squeezes his arm again and drops into the chair next to him. So close, still close enough to touch.

“You want to share that?” Dean asks, nodding toward the whiskey bottle. Castiel nudges it toward him, but Dean lifts Castiel’s glass instead, taking a quick swallow and grimacing around the burn. “I thought you were tired,” he says, softly.

Castiel shrugs. “Turns out I slept long enough.” It’s not totally true - he’s so tired, but he’s also so unsettled by the idea of closing his eyes.

Dean winces, and Castiel looks away. 

“Yeah, there’s no way I’m sleeping tonight either,” Dean says. Silence falls between them - Castiel can hear the generator and the beat of his own heart. It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but it’s a loaded one - cocked and waiting.

“I hope you’re not regretting your choice already,” Dean says, something dry and a little pained in his voice.

“Of course not,” Castiel says.

Dean shrugs. “You just seem...unsure. And I know it was hard, the first time around. I’m sorry for that. You know this is your home, right? We’re so glad to have you back.” He pauses. “ _I_ am so glad to have you back.”

There’s that raw nerve feeling again. Castiel just nods. “I chose this, Dean. Freely.”

“I know, but I…” Dean starts, at the same time Castiel says:

“I’m sorry.” 

Dean’s head whips around. “For what?” There’s something so cautious in his voice.

“For what I said. Before. For putting it on you like that. It wasn’t fair. It was the only way, but still. I’m sorry. I wouldn’t have done that if there had been another choice.”

When he chances a look at Dean, Dean is just gaping at him. “Cas, you saved me. Maybe made it possible for us to save everyone. I don’t..”Dean starts, and then stops, breathing deep and closing his eyes, before opening them again, and focusing all of his attention on Castiel’s face. Castiel shudders. “Are you telling me,” Dean says, quietly, a little dangerous, “that you just gave up your grace, gave up everything, _because I couldn’t stop myself from begging you to_ , and you still think…” he cuts himself off again and rubs a hand over his face. “I shouldn’t have asked that of you, and you _still_ think I…” his voice wavers as he trails off again, unable to finish whatever he was trying to choke out.

Castiel’s heart kicks up a notch, he doesn’t know how Dean doesn’t hear it now, echoing off the walls or in the hollow of his chest. There’s something like apprehension or the tendrils of treacherous hope churning his gut. “Dean, you don’t have to say anything. I want to be here. I know …” he starts to say, wants to make it clear that he _knows_ that they’re family and that family is everything. That Dean _taught him that_ and it’s enough. Nothing about that has changed, Dean has always been enough. Castiel hardly gave up _everything_ ; he really hasn’t sacrificed anything he feels like he’ll miss. Dean cuts him off, though, one hand shooting out to wrap around Castiel’s forearm and squeeze.

“No,” Dean says, sharply. His eyes meet Castiel’s and there’s something wild there. “No,” he says more quietly. “I’m going to talk now. And yes, I do have to say something.” He swallows hard. “Apparently I have to say a lot.”

He looks down, not moving his hand from Castiel’s arm, and then he looks back up again. Their eyes meet and Castiel can’t breathe; he’s reminded all over again that that’s important now, when the air stutters and catches in his chest.

“I thought you knew,” Dean says, still quiet, but his voice echoes in the stillness.

“Knew?” 

“Yes, asshole. I thought you _knew_. You were an angel. You feel longing, you heard my prayers, you held my soul in your hands and put me back together, so you know things I’ve never told another living person about _who I am_. You see me in ways that make me feel sliced to the bone. You looked me in the eye in Purgatory and told me you heard my prayer and I didn’t have to say it, and _I thought you knew._ ” 

It comes out in a rush. They stare at each other for a moment, and Castiel can’t hear anything now over the rushing in his ears. Then Dean draws another shuddery breath. He’s still looking Castiel right in the eye, pinning him here in this chair in the dark of the library. Dean says, “I love you. Of _course_ I love you. _You_ thought you couldn’t have _me_? You’ve always had me, Cas. You gave up Heaven for me, you rebelled for me, and I’ve never deserved any of it, so I thought we just didn’t talk about it. You are everything I want, and everything I thought I couldn’t have.”

“Dean,” Cas starts again, blinking through the shock. Dean shakes his head and lifts his hand to cup Castiel’s face and run one thumb over his cheek bone.

“Let me finish. Just let me get this out. I know I’ve been a mess through this whole Chuck. I know I doubted everything, but you, and us and this? It’s always been real. I know that. Every time I’ve lost you, and I have lost you so many times, it’s like everything just goes dark. I don’t know how to keep moving without you with me. I was going to try this time. I was going to try to be what you see in me. But don’t you get that everything is better when you’re here? When I asked you in the Empty to stay, I meant I thought I lost you again. I meant _stay with me_ in every way.” He takes another deep breath. “I meant, I love you. And I thought you knew.”

The pieces fall like dominoes, the boundaries of their history redrawing themselves against this new backdrop, all of Dean’s actions cast in the light of his self-doubt colliding with Castiel’s own self-loathing, and Castiel is stunned. This is a very human physiological reaction, he thinks, distantly, the way the blood has all rushed to his head, and he can’t feel his face or his hands. It’s shock maybe; it’s also clearly true happiness, but the flip side of the calm he felt before. He might shake out of his skin. He also can’t form words enough to respond. 

Dean’s eyes are wet. Tears not quiet spilling. He’s still just watching Castiel, gaze intense and piercing. Castiel has seen the expression on Dean’s face before, but just a glimpse, a hint of what could be, a whisper of a moment before Dean looked away.

He’s not looking away now. And Castiel doesn’t know how he missed so much.

“I didn’t know,” he breathes out. 

Dean lets out a wet laugh. “Yeah, no shit. Trust me, I get that now. Me either, and we’re both stupid. Come here.” He tugs Castiel to his feet and back into his arms. It’s not quite the desperation from their reunion in the Empty, but there’s something in it that’s fierce and possessive. This close Castiel can feel that Dean’s shaking a little too, a trembling that eases when Castiel runs his hand along the line of Dean’s spine.

“I’m here,” Castiel says, and Dean nods against his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Castiel says again, after a moment.

“For what now?” Dean asks, voice muffled where he has his head tipped against Castiel’s shoulder, sounding mildly put out in a way that makes Castiel tighten his arms around him.

“For ever leaving you.”

Dean shudders again, pulling back just enough that so has the space to run his hands up Castiel’s arms to cup his face and tip their foreheads together. “Just don’t do it again,” he says.

Castiel got everything so wrong. He did not anticipate that he would be the one doing the soothing in this conversation, at least not like this. He squeezes Dean’s hip in reassurance. “I won’t,” he says, “Never on purpose, not ever again.”

Dean kisses him, just a press of their lips together, hand tight on Castiel’s jaw. Castiel freezes for a minute, struck by the enormity of this moment, too stunned to respond. But then he feels a slight hesitation as Dean starts to pull back, and that can’t happen. He leans in, catching Dean’s mouth more firmly, and feeling Dean open up and melt against him. Dean’s fingers slide around the back of Castiel’s head as he pulls Castiel against him more tightly. 

It’s so easy to get lost in this - the slide of their mouths together, the press of Dean’s hand on his skin, lighting up his sense - it doesn’t feel raw anymore, but the intensity isn’t lessened, just shifted from pain to a pleasure that still almost aches. They end up shifting around so Castiel is standing between Dean’s legs as they kiss, Dean halfway to sitting on the table. 

Dean gets one hand under Castiel’s shirt (it’s Dean’s shirt, he’s in Dean’s clothes, after all that mess of the Empty, and even that sends a thrill through him now). Dean’s hand is a brand against Castiel’s bare skin. His other hand, still on Castiel’s jaw, is a demand, and Castiel wants to demand right back, demand everything he thought he could never have, that is now somehow miraculously already his. He doesn’t have much experience with this, but he doesn’t really feel like he needs it, not here with Dean pliant against him, everywhere they touch sending sparks through his new human senses. 

It would be so easy to let this catch fire, just here on the library table, and decorum be damned, but he _has_ this now, and he wants so much more, wants to strip Dean naked in every way and watch him come apart under Castiel’s hands. He’s spinning, a little, with just how much he wants, and with the knowledge of being wanted back.

He slows a little bit, softening the dizzying rush because Dean at this point pretty clearly isn’t going to do it. He pulls back, easing it with softer kisses, a brush of lips like a promise. “I love you,” he whispers again, and again between kisses, until they’re standing still again, wrapped in each other’s arms, Castiel’s forehead pressed against Dean’s temple, just breathing each other in. 

Dean’s still clinging to him a little, just as tight, shaky where he stands, and it’s so clear to Castiel now, everything he missed, years thrown into sharp relief. He’s not sure how he missed _so much_. Dean’s right; they are so stupid.

He wonders if this is how Dean felt in the dungeon, watching their history rewritten and illuminated. Only for him, that new possibility was immediately snuffed out. The thought makes him ache; there’s a little thread of guilt running through it, but that’s not important now. What’s important now is the time they have, here, together.

“I think I could sleep now,” he says, finally, “if I wasn’t alone.” 

Dean squeezes his shoulder. “You’re not alone, Cas, never again.”

Dean threads their fingers together and stays close as they make their way down the hallway. There’s the same urgency to his touch that’s been there since they got back from the Empty, like he’s still a little afraid Castiel will vanish on him again, but Castiel gets it now, understand what Dean’s been saying for so long with everything except words, and holds back just as tight. 

They end up in Castiel’s room. He’s never made much use of it, and he’s not sure now he’ll ever have cause to know. He won’t need it, not with the way Dean is pressed up against him, still murmuring promises into his skin. 

But tonight he pulls Dean with him down onto the bed so they’re wrapped in each other’s arms face-to-face and Castiel can study the freckles on Dean’s face in the lamplight. Nothings’ different with his new human vision, except that everything’s different, isn’t it?

He doesn’t know everything the future holds, but if it’s just this, it’s enough. Dean was always enough, but this is more.

“What?” Dean asks, amusement and relief in his tone, dropping his eyes in something like embarrassment as Castiel drinks him in. Castiel just shakes his head and leans in to kiss him again.


End file.
